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9
EMERY
Shame sloshes inside of me, spilling over with every step.
I dropped to my knees and begged. Begged him.
The man is a psychopath. You look pretty when you cry. Only a true animal would say something like that.
And yet, I can’t keep my eyes off his muscular thighs as he strides in front of me.
I can’t unsee the way he assessed me when I was on the floor in front of him.
And I can’t forget how a part of me, deep down, hoped he would reach out and touch me.
Suddenly, he stops walking. I have to scramble to avoid running into his back. We’re at the entrance to the ballroom. The place where, only twelve hours ago, we met.
It feels like a lifetime has passed since then.
He spins to face me. “I’m allowing this because I trust you’ve learned a lesson.”
A lesson? Like I’m some misbehaving little rugrat? Oh, fuck that and fuck him and—
“Perhaps not. Based on your expression right now, you haven’t learned a damn thing.”
“I’ve learned enough about you to know this was a huge fucking mistake.”
“The only mistake would be ruining this deal, Emery.” He narrows his eyes. “Isabella is happy. Do you really want to undo that?”
“Don’t tell me how to take care of my own daughter.”
He’s in my space in an instant. “Don’t forget who is in charge.”
I open my mouth to say something I’ll likely regret, but the words die when I hear a shriek through the door. Instinctively, I know it’s Isabella.
I’ve trained myself to know her voice. To rouse at the sound of her calling for me in the night. To provide comfort when she’s frightened, when she’s hurt, when she’s sad.
My body has existed to work in tandem with hers since the moment she was born.
And now, I know I need to do whatever it takes to get through these doors and see her.
“So the question is… will you be a good girl?” Adrik rasps.
His breath is warm on my skin. Goosebumps erupt down my arms and a tingle coils low in my belly.
I nod reluctantly.
“Say it.”
I take a deep breath. “I’ll be good.”
He reaches out and sweeps a strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture would be sweet coming from anyone else. But with Adrik, it’s possessive. I’m a doll he is dressing up and posing just right.
What I want, what I feel?
Meaningless.
Satisfied, he turns and throws open the double doors.
Last night, the ballroom was filled with long tables full of food and drinks, circular high-tops where self-important people gathered and drank, and a grand stage for the orchestra.
But Adrik’s staff must’ve worked quickly after the party ended, because the empty room now looks like it’s always been this way. Cold. Austere. Foreboding.
The space feels twice as big without all the people and decoration. The dark wood floors gleam, reflecting the early morning light coming in through the arched, floor-to-ceiling windows along the back wall. They were covered with gauzy curtains last night, but now, I can see through the glass out to the gardens behind the mansion.
I don’t have long to look, though, because a blue go-kart whips in front of me, nearly taking off my toes.
A blonde man is behind the wheel. He’s tall and thin with tattoos snaking up and around his neck. I’m about to ask where Isabella is when she comes pulling up right alongside him in a pink go-kart wide enough to connect to her wheelchair.
And she is positively screaming with glee.
“Mama!” She has a pink, sparkly helmet on with a golden unicorn horn in the center. “Look at this!”
She shifts up on one joystick with her right hand and jams another joystick sideways with her left. The car drifts around the corner of the room with a squeal before straightening out. She rockets towards the back wall.
“Isabella!” I cry out as she heads straight for the wall of windows. “Stop!”
With expert precision I’m not sure should be possible, she maneuvers the next turn flawlessly.
“She shouldn’t be driving that,” I gasp. My heart feels like it’s going to explode.
Isabella is fragile. She must be protected. Kept safe from the world.
That has been the rhythm my heart has drummed to for six years. And now, my baby is flying around the room, mere inches away from disaster.
“How many times do I have to tell you?” Adrik sighs. “Nothing will happen to you as long as you’re under my protection.”
Forgetting everything I just saw in the hallway, I round on him and grab his shirt. “Get her out of there now! She’s six, for God’s sake. She can’t even write her name, so she sure as hell shouldn’t be driving a go-kart that can go that fast. If anything happens to her, I’ll—”
Adrik’s hand clamps around my arm, a claw of anger. But then he glances out into the ballroom. Towards Isabella. His nostrils flare.
Instead of tossing me around like I know he wants to, he slowly but forcefully removes my fingers from his shirt and points up to the mezzanine level.
I didn’t notice before, but there’s a man standing along the railing with a black controller in his hands. His eyes are locked on the action happening below. As he maneuvers the controller, Isabella’s car follows suit.
“He’s controlling the car,” I murmur in shock.
“You keep forgetting one essential truth, Emery: I control everything.”
Her car speeds past me twice more—the second time, her hands aren’t even on the joysticks. Finally, the man above brings her to a stop in front of me.
I run towards her, trying to keep my relieved tears at bay.
"Hi, baby." I squeeze her and press a kiss to the top of her head. "Are you okay?"
Isabella seems confused by the question. After all, why wouldn't she be okay? From her perspective, life is grand.
"Adrik gave me a car," she squeaks, so excited she can't help it. "It's like my wheelchair but faster! Even faster than Stefan!”
I glance at the blonde man behind her. He raises his hand in greeting. Something is inked across his knuckles, but I can't read it from here. That's probably for the best.
“And who is Stefan?”
The question is directed at Adrik more than anyone, but Isabella pipes up. “Stefan is Adrik’s goodest friend. I asked him if he was taller than a bear, and he said no.”
“Oh,” is all I can say.
